07/27/2024
Lest We Forget, Hedvig Clausen Svore, 1959
Continued from recollections of Rachel Taylor Martin …
When the freight car reached Williston express wagons were hired to haul their goods, plus lumber, for the new home across the river on the last leg of their journey. They crossed the ferry late in the day and pulled to Raum’s ferry roadhouse to spend the night. Before turning in a rider came up the hill with news of disaster on the ferry. The loads of freight, following Taylors and Thurows were heavily loaded, mostly with lumber. The former owner of the ferry had been killed in a ferry accident and an inexperienced hand was in charge. The first team had been driven too far toward the end to make room for the extra wagon and the first team with its extra wagon, and the first team with its load was somehow tipped into the swift, muddy river and was lost. The team, fastened to the wagon, could not free themselves to swim to shore. Man without his horse was helpless. A fitting monument to the horse would be appropriate on the hill overlooking Alexander. The team that lost their lives in the river belonged to Julius Jacobson.
Next day about dark, the Taylors and Thurlows reached their new homesite on the prairie. This writers shack was about a mile north and they camped there for the night. It was late in the fall. The next morning, the weary group woke to find the winter had set in, there was a heavy fall of snow over everything to cause delays and discomfort to both man and animals. Snow had to be shoveled away to find a place to build home and shelter for the stock. The Taylor boys secured some woven wire and built a large wire pan , using wire for walls. They placed poles across the top for a roof. That summer the writer had 5 acres seaded to crop and harvested. The straw from it was used for walls and roof for the barn for the team, cow and hens. The next spring, a prairie fire swept through the yard in a high wind and burned their straw barn. Luckily the animals were outside, so only some hens, harness, etc., destroyed.
For heat and cooking lignite coal could be hauled from the mines a few miles away. For this Mrs. Thurlow built a stoneboat, a sort of sled, by nailing planks to smooth logs for runners. She solved the problem of shafts for old Kit by making them from the sides of an old wooden bedstead that she had brought with her in the freight. With this, the two boys, Ted and, Reggie, made trips to the mine on mild winter days, bringing it back loaded with coal. As it had no sides, the boys could roll off and walk, or ride, trusting Kit to keep the road. One time the writer and Mrs. Thurlow drove Kit to Williston and back the same day, reaching home late at night, a trip of 50 miles in the buggy. I can’t recall what we went for; goodness knows it wasn’t for luxuries, for there was money only for absolute musts . In the food line one must have flour, beans, oatmeal, bacon, some dried fruit. With many, coffee, sugar, butter, canned goods were luxuries.
In the spring Will Taylor, then about 18, broke up 5 acres of sod for the Bensons, who lived a mile north of them on the road to Cartwright, and earned a calf. The calf with a cow they had shipped out, was the beginning of a fine herd of milk cows. About the same time, a new homesteader living some distance away, came to hire him to plow 5 acres. (This was a must in order to obtain a patent. ) The family needing groceries waited for three days for him to return with a $15 ready to go to town. He came at last but minus the $15. The new homesteader didn’t have any money either.
Shortly, however, the worst was over. Soon crops were harvested, calves grew up, chickens were hatched. They were a part of the community, all struggling for the same end; security, and the leadership, devotion and sacrifice of these two courageous mothers paid off handsomely for their children and grandchildren. They built up prosperous farms and today enjoy the comfort of modern homes. 
Some of the earliest Camp Creek residents were the Orson Canfield family. They were from Michigan. They were close neighbors of the Thurows and Taylors. They built a house instead of a shack. It was the only house in the neighborhood. They were a fine, hospitable family. Neighbors were always welcome. They had a grown daughter and son, Leona, Mrs. Herbert Férin, and Harry. Mrs. Canfield was a sweet and gracious woman. Their home was ideal and it was a joy to visit there. Neighborhood parties were held there, and sometimes the young folks came out from Alexander. Glad of an evening of fun. The furniture was pushed back in the kitchen so they could square dance, while Leona played the piano. Mrs. Canfield’s eats after the party were a rare treat for bachelors and maids alike. So pioneer days were not always drab as they might seem to modern times. Everyone was expecting better days and to those who stayed with their adventure their dreams came true.
To be continued… 
